


Complications in Peacetime

by TheBun



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBun/pseuds/TheBun
Summary: This is post series accepted as canon. Tyrion travels north with a companion years after the burning of kings landing. Sansa has been his voice of reason through letters, but what will happen when she is called upon to do her duty in the North?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the Sansa and Tyrion dynamic in Kings Landing and have always wondered where that adult relationship could go. While I also did not love the end of the series i think it presented a really interesting playground and I wanted to explore that in the context of that relationship. Not 100% sure where this is going but I have a couple chapters planned.

It started with the ravens. 

It wouldn't do to not answer a call of diplomacy, but one of the last things Sansa Stark expected to come out of the split of the North from the Southron kingdoms was a steady stream of letters from the king's hand and her former husband, Tyrion Lannister. 

Dearest Lady Stark, each one began.

I hope to find you in extremely good health and spirits and pray that the winter has not bested your grain stores. As a reminder, if the North is ever in need of a excellent trading partner it should look no further then kings landing, where help can be found. I would like to ask your opinion on a small matter...

And to follow would be endless court gossip and intrigue, which Sansa found herself engrossed in dissecting and interpreting, finally sending a large stack of well wishes and recommendations for the kings own hand. Sansa never imagined it, but the letters were frequent, intimate, tinged with lively humour and a meeting of minds which had grown clever together. Three years of corresponding had built up and cumulated to this most recent entry which Sansa pondered at her desk. 

As you may have guessed, Lady Stark, you have become one of my closest confidants in these three years past and I cannot help but yearn to see you and talk with you in person once more. We also received an extremely strange bird which arrived only four days past carrying and assortment of items which have never before been seen in westeroes, as well as a note addressed to you. The contents of this pouch being so valuable I did not want to risk a raven or a imbecile of a messanger, and so would bring these items myself, your permission allowing. Do let me know with great haste if this sounds agreeable. 

All the best,

You friend,

Tyrion Lannister

PS: I would not object to pissing off the wall if our trip could travel even further north.

Sansa regarded the fifth page of Tyrion's letter, feeling unbalanced. It was one thing to be frank and blunt with a man through letters, another entirely to host them in her own home. She found herself writing her response commenting and inquiring on all of the intrigue he had provided her, advised on courses of action for each problem as she would have for any other letter. Sansa briefly wondered if she could ignore his proposition entirely but immediately dismissed that train of thought. Tyrion was a trusted, dear friend and nothing more. She should be thrilled at the prospect of seeing him again, and she was but her stomach lurched in anticipation in a not entirely unpleasant or friendly way. At last she penned:

Only you, my lord, would assume that you would be in any way unwelcome in the north. I think someone who can finally match my wits here would be a delightful treat. If it pleases you to do so, then it pleases me to have you here. However, you will not be allowed within these walls without lemons as well as dear Brienne of Tarth (if she can be spared). 

Your ever paitent advisor,

Sansa Stark  
Queen in the North

PS: I unfortunately have not heard from the king beyond the wall for at least five moons but i am sure this package contains gifts for him as well. Perhaps we can seek him out. I do hope your bladder can make it from Kings Landing all the way to the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who are reading!!

Tyrion stared at the vast, snowy prairie before him. A frozen tundra that howled with a late winter wind, peicing in its sharpness, causing stinging red cheeks, and chapped foreheads and lips. In the distance a dark structure stood out against the stark background, white grey flags visible even from this distance. Brienne of Tarth sneezed irritably next to him. 

"My Lord, are you going to sit on that horse staring all day, or are we going to go warm up inside at some point in the next year. Maybe if you stare long enough, winter will end. "

Tyrion regarded her with amusement.   
"Dear Brienne, I did not realize how quickly you softened in the south! Perhaps you would like to turn back? I'm more then capable of riding to Winterfell myself." 

Brienne's disapproving stare matched the winds themselves.   
"Stop gwaking. Or are you concerned about seeing her grace again?" Brienne smirked   
Tyrion lead his horse into a walk. He turned to Brienne.

"I am not afraid of Sansa Stark, Ser. And if either of us should be nervous it should be you. Did you have a rather large, red haired wildling after you the last time we were north, hmmm? Or was I just imagining riveting stares and proclamations of 'monster babies'? Perhaps we can seek him out? I dare say that he would be nothing short of delighted to see you again." He grinned at Brienne in expectation of her sharp reply. Brienne however, regarded him with eyes clouded in memory, her expression unreadable. Tyrion had become used to a certain teasing acidity during their conversations and was surprised to see her stoic nature create distance between them. 

"I remember a different man from my time in the north Lord Tyrion. I imagine you remember him fondly too."  
Tyrion winced. "My apologies Ser. I, yet again, seem to have put my foot in it so to speak. Forgive me. Let us not bicker too much before our arrival."   
Brienne nodded, stoic and unyeilding. "It will be good to return, and see Winterfell rebuilt."  
"That it will."

A quarter of a days travel later and the duo with their small riding party stands at the gates of Winterfell to be announced.   
"Lord Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of the King, and Ser Brienne of Tarth, Capitan of the Kingsgaurd."   
Both dismount to be greeted by the Queen in the North.   
Sansa Stark is seemingly unchanged by the three years and the new hardships of rule. Blue eyes rich in wisdom, long red hair in simple braids of the north, furs thick, and a smile, sweet, small but there for him and Brienne. It gave him endless joy to see her like this; free from abuse, the rule of others, and slightly more open then she had been at his last arrival. He could not contain a wide grin and saw that Breinne's eyes were more blue than usual. No matter, he almost felt a need to cry himself. Sansa approached and Tyrion bowed deeply.   
"My Queen," he said, and reached for her hand, given generously with sparkling blue eyes. He kissed it chastely, taken for a moment startlingly back to the crypts, back to a time of acute and imminent danger where he would have gladly lain down his life for Sansa Stark's. The girl who was once his wife who he had wanted so sorely to protect. Dark eyes met light, and he could see the past reflected in her's just the same. Almost impulsively Sansa knelt to hug him close. 

"Tyrion," she murmured, "I have missed you." He struggled to form words.   
"Your grace, Sansa, you look entirely unchanged. My poor old heart."  
She pulled a face at him and he could not contain his watery laughter.   
"Brienne," she said releasing him "I hope my lord didn't drive you completely mad with teasing along the way?" She walked easily into Brienne's gruff embrace.   
" I only felt like killing him twice my lady." At which Sansa's delicate smile grew.   
"Come," she declared all at once commanding and amused. "You southerners must be cold. Unpack, thaw yourselves and we will dine together. Let me show you to your rooms. I have an hankering for my presents. Lord Tyrion, Brienne?" 

She gestured for them to follow. Entering the great keep Tyrion saw that the halls which he remembered littered with destruction had been entirely repaired, and the castle hummed with life and warmth. After showing Brienne to her chamber, not without a promise of food and company in the evening, he followed Sansa to his own room, eyes fixated on the sheen of rich, red hair flowing down her back, and the way the touch lights seemed to ignite it from within. 

"Here," she spoke softly into the silence, opening the door to a chamber that had a fire burning. Tyrion settled the small bag he was carrying upon the furs of the bed, and removed the note.   
"For you," he proclaimed rather uselessly as he handed it to her. Sansa did not snatch the note, but rather with an air of someone savouring something sweet, slowly opened it and began to read. Tyrion meanwhile, busied himself with the items that had come in the pouch with the note. He did not want to intrude on this private moment of her with her sister. Sansa regarded him, her eyes overbright with tears. 

"That fool. What did she send me?"   
Tyrion presented her with the dagger. It was extremely flat, no longer than a man's middle finger and hung on a chain, which appeared to be a simple silver necklace. Sansa's eyes widened and went rounder still with the small pocketbook of pressed flowers and the small pouch of seeds.   
"I can only imagine what the mind of an assassin does while idle, my lady." Remarked Tyrion as she placed the dagger around her neck and tucked it into her dress. 

"There is more and another note. Have you been in contact with Jon?" Tyrion asked concerned he was overstepping a boundary. Sansa glanced up from the book. She grimaced, and fiddled slightly with the pages. 

"I have not. But there is still time yet. Who knows how far North he may be or how long it may take him to travel from there, if he is willing. Though I have to think that the one thing that could make him do so is news of Arya." She sighed, eyes closed and inhaled deeply, settling her face into one that betrayed no emotion. Tyrion ached, somewhere, everywhere for this recognition of her training against sorrow. He wished with all his heart that she did not have to bear it. 

"My dear-"  
"If you'll excuse me My Lord, I must return to my duties, and I'm sure I have imposed to long on our weary traveler." She began to exit the room, and Tyrion feeling like he may burst with it, the need to see her smile could not help but admit in almost stuttering words. 

"You are never an imposition, dear Sansa. Of that you must be painfully aware. Only when you a right and I am wrong when it comes to matters of the court. And even despite my ego, at being the cleverest in court I am reminded that there is someone infinitely more clever to the North of me."

Tyrion's honesty bought him more then he had bargained or prepared himself for. A wide grin, and a slight, stuttering, bubbling laughter. Tyrion smiled.   
"I have long awaited a friend. I need your council during your stay. And please rest. I have many matters that require our attention." Sansa smirked "This will not be a leisurely trip, Tyrion."  
Tyrion regarded her with an expression of mock shock. 

"But, who will drink Winterfell dry if I don't?"   
Sansa made an expression that if it had been anyone else he would have called a smirk, and with a wink, was gone, leaving Tyrion to contemplate the knoting of his stomach and the pounding of his heart in peace.


End file.
